


Jaime/Brienne ficlets

by Chrisoel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrisoel/pseuds/Chrisoel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Jaime/Brienne ficlets (like you <em>might</em> have guessed from the title). I hope to add more soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wedding anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> Found this collection of AU suggestions on tumblr:  
> http://kenaiskoda.tumblr.com/post/119898437912/established-relationship-aus
> 
> and picked this one:
> 
> We’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on the wrong day for the past nine years AU

"You must be rather bored that you start reading the engraving of your wedding ring. You should be familiar with the information it contains. My name's Jaime, in case you've forgotten."

"I _am_ rather bored. We've been stuck in this traffic jam for the last four hours. With a broken car radio. We're never going to travel this route by car again. Not at the first day of winter holidays."

"Yeah, I know, it wasn't a good suggestion. I apologised five times already. Now tell me, Brienne, has the engraving changed to 'Ash nazg durbatulûk' or why are you staring at it like that? I can check the map for the next exit to Mordor. I don't think there are too many people heading that way so it would solve the problem with the traffic jam."

"I'm not too keen on getting a finger chewed off, though. Back to the topic, when did we last celebrate our wedding anniversary?"

"In july, like every year. On the 8th. I don't even need a calender to know that."

"The engraving says 7th."

"What? Give it... shit."

"Of course you would let it drop under the seat."

"Look on the bright side, now we have something to do. Wait, I have it... no, that's not a ring. Oh, it's the mini torch Tyrion gave me for my birthday three years ago!"

"Well, if that isn't a happy reunion. You wouldn't happen to find our missing salt shaker down there? Or Margaery's credit card? She still hasn't found it."

"Hm... no. But here's a mummified jelly bear. I wonder what it tastes like.

"Jaime, you can't eat that!"

"I can't believe you just threw it out of the window!"

"How do you imagine an ambulance would come through if you poisoned yourself with a jelly bear?"

"You disturbed the children in the car next to us. They are crying over your cruelty towards jelly bears."

"They are crying because they had to spend the last four hours strapped in there seats. Will you retrieve my wedding ring eventually?"

"Here it is. So, where's the engraving? I can't see anything. Are there any reading glases..."

"Glove compartment. Careful, I'll drive half a meter. Ok, too optimistic estimation, more like twenty centimeters."

"Ok, it says _Jaime_ , that's the handsome man in the passengers seat, _07/07/12_... does it say the same in mine? Seven hells, it does. I can't remember us ever celebrating on the 7th, can you?"

"No."

"So...

"...we spent the last nine years celebrating our _wedding anniversary_ on the wrong day. That's something only we manage, huh?"

"But it didn't hurt, did it? I mean, we were in total agreement."

"Yeah, I'm just wondering whether we should make inquiries at what date other people celebrate christmas..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ash nazg durbatulûk" and Mordor is of course borrowed from The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien  
> The idea of finding longlost torches under car seats stems from the one summer holiday in which my mother was reunited with the torch she had lost years ago and the missing salt shaker is a family thing too, but it hasn't reappeared yet.  
> If you should encounter a stray glass salt shaker, about 1 1/2 inches tall with a dark metal top please tell it is missed severely by its sibling and would be most welcome to come back. Also the family would love to hear about its adventures.


	2. Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one of the same list as the first one:  
> It’s 2 am but you’re craving cake and we’re both up anyway so let’s bake in our underwear AU

"Brienne?"

"Hm?"

"Can you sleep?"

"No. I'm too busy thinking about ice and snow. Ugh, this heat is killing me. I showered before I went to bed. I could shower again right now."

"Do you think the Starks might grant us asylum in Winterfell? I guess it's cooler there."

"Tempting thought."

"You know what I want?"

"The Stark words coming true this instant?

"That would be nice too, but I just remembered the cake we had at Winterfell".

"The lemon one?

"I didn't get a piece of that. Sansa had eaten it all. I would have thought the Starks would make sure to instill some manners into their children, but the lesson that you leave some cake for the guests doesn't seem to have made it through."

"We came without any advance warning, Jaime, it was already polite they let us stay."

"Still. But no, I was thinking of that cherry-marzipan one."

"Oh, that was delicious!"

"I want some. _Now._ "

"It's two o'clock in the morning."

"And your getting at what? We won't be able to sleep anyway."

"Hm."

"I want caaaake, Brienne!"

" _Yes!_ Let me think. We still have marzipan, I bought two packs last week and we only used one. And Margaery gave me the ready to use cake base she bought accidently. But do we have cherries?"

"We have some in a glas. I nearly dropped it when i fetched the pasta yesterday."

"Well, that means we could make the cake. But it's..."

"... the middle of the night, yes, just come already."

"One second."

"Brienne, you're not actually dressing now?"

"I can't stand in the kitchen in only my underwear!"

"Brienne, it's our kitchen. Nobody but us is there. And we have already established that it is the middle of the night. And anyway, it's nice underwear. Blue's a good colour on you."

"You don't have to say that everytime I wear something blue."

"No, I don't have to, but I want to. So were is the cake base?

"Next to the pasta? Oh, what is it doing in the fridge?"

"No idea. Here are the cherries, though. We just put them on the cake base?"

"Yes, and then you have to take cherryjuice and make a glaze..."

"I want to eat the cake before sunrise!

"The cherries will roll off otherwise!"

"But we put the marzipan on top. And.. let's see what the fridge can offer... we have left over vanilla pudding. Couldn't we use that instead of the glaze?

"We can try it. But I'm handling the pudding and you roll out the marzipan. Otherwise there won't be any pudding to put on the cake. Jaime! You have to put the marzipan between cling film before rolling it out!"

"Oh, I already wondered how you keep it from sticking to the rolling pin."

"We do own a tea plate, I am sure... whoa!"

"Did you just smash the one we got from aunt Genna? That's a good deed, you know, it's really ugly."

"The one we got from Olenna is even worse. Ok, that's mean, it's not that bad. But no, it didn't break."

"Trust aunt Genna to buy tableware that will survive falling to the kitchen floor. The marzipan's ready."

"Jaime, you might at least have tried to roll it out in the shape of the cake. I don't know how to call that, but 'circle' is defenitely not the word for it."

"Pffff. Details! Look, it fits! More or less."

"Just shut up and take the fork."

"You're not going to bother with plates and cutting pieces and that stuff?"

"Unnecessary. It's not like we will stop before the whole cake is eaten, will we?"

"That's the spirit."

"Yumm. This was an excellent idea."

"Of course. It was mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure wether I achieved anything by writing this than now wanting cake too.
> 
> I hope I used the correct words for tea plate and cling film and rolling pin ect. While writing this I realised that I had never written or read anything in english with kitchen utensils. Maybe I should put an english cook book on my reading list to familiarize myself with the vocabulary!


	3. Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, a different list with AU suggestions;  
> http://ciraeus.tumblr.com/post/103507843665/guess-who-loves-aus
> 
> And I chose this one:  
> Grabbed wrong shoes in security AU  
> 

"I'm really sorry, Miss. It seems as if someone has taken your shoes. We guess this person just slipped on your shoes and walked away, because we have this pair of shoes left. Maybe you would like to have them? I think they are your size."

The security guard offers her a pair of Jodphur boots. Hesitantly she takes them. She is by no means an expert on shoes, but the leather strikes her as high quality, and the shoes probably were rather expensive. Maybe even handmade.

"Why would someone leave such shoes behind?" she asks.

"Dunno. Head in the clouds. Got them as a present from relatives he doesn't like. Whatever. We double and triple checked them. Had detection dogs confirm there's neither explosives nor drugs in them, in case you worry about that."

That does ease her mind a bit.

"What if he comes back for them?"

"Well, I'll tell him you are taking the ten o'clock flight to King's Landing and if you're already borded or departed by this time, then he's the idiot who took the wrong shoes."

"Alright. Thank you very much for your trouble."

"No problem. Have a good flight!"

The guard walks away and she pulls on the shoes, relieved she doesn't need to worry about people looking at her socks anymore. They are striped in rainbow colours and the sort that have fingers for the toes. Margaery bought them in Braavos and gave them to Brienne for her birthday. Brienne likes them, they are something else than her boring everyday socks but it might not have been the best idea to wear them for a flight. People tend to stare at them.

The boots are quite comforable and fit her exactly. That probably means the other person has a well fitting pair of shoes as well.

* * *

Brienne spends the remaining half an hour until boarding staring at shoes in the hope she will find her comfy black trainers. She doesn't, but learns to appreciate the diversity of footwear. One girl, not older than ten or eleven, but already with a shoe size Brienne estimates to be at least a seven wears sandals with colourful butterfly applications. She is glad for the girl that the shoe industry has learnt since her time. When Brienne was ten she had to buy her shoes in the men's area of the store because there were no children's shoes in her size (and seldomly shoes for women either) while all the other girls still wore pretty little children's shoes in bright colours.

* * *

It is an overnight flight and by the time she sits down most of the people around her have already switched the back rests back and donned sleep mask with prints of varying tastefullness. The goldblond man in the seat behind her wears a crimson one with the words "Hear me roar" above a little roaring lion cub. (Even though it looks more like it's yawning.) Brienne hopes he doesn't plan to put the words into action on this flight, she could use the sleep.

* * *

After an hour she has to realize sleeping might not be as easy as she thought because she can't find a comfortable position for her legs. The man behind her seems to have similar problems for she can hear him shifting his legs. He opts for stretching them out in the gangway next to her seat. In order to pursue her new hobby of shoe watching she lets her eyes fall to his feet.

His shoes. Or better: _her_ shoes. It's the model she has (or had). To be sure she leans down. Yes. The left shoelace is asymmetric and slightly frayed, the right shoe has a tiny green blot of nail polish near the tip (Margaery's).

She briefly considers trying to tug the shoes of his feet and exchanging them for his, but her mind provides her with with a scenario that is too close to an embarassing comedy.

"Never seen a pair of black trainers before?"

Focused on the shoes she didn't realize he was awake. She looks up, feeling a blush rising in her cheeks.

He has pushed the sleeping mask up to rest in his hair like a pair of fashionable sunglasses. While she would have sworn by the old gods and the new that anybody with a sleeping mask sporting a lion cub in their hair would look absolutely ridiculous he manages to look not only not ridiculous but actually hot. His eyes (brilliantly green framed with long, golden lashes) seem to sparkle as he grins at her.

"Uh, I've seen trainers before..." _Great start, Brienne._ The thing is, the next sentence that comes to her mind doesn't sound less stupid. _You're wearing my shoes._ Instead she angles her leg so he can see her (his) boots.

His eyes wander from her feet to his and back. His next grin is slightly goofy.

"Eh... I guess I was a bit in thoughts at the security checkpoint?" he whispers.

"The security guard's word were 'Head in the clouds.' His alternative theory was that you got the boots as a present from an unloved relative and left them on purpose." she whispers back.

"No, I bought them myself and am actually rather fond of them. I have the same trainer model like you. Didn't think and just grabbed them. And since yours were the right size..."

"So... would you like to switch them back?"

They both tug their respective left shoe off and have just exchanged it when the woman across the gangway lifts her sleeping mask to peer at them. They freeze. The woman stares at them with furrowed brows before letting the mask fall back into place.

"Now I'm seeing people swapping shoes. I am never drinking this stuff again." they hear her murmur. Their eyes meet and they muffle their laughter.

After they have completed the shoe transaction the man leans forward, ellbows on his tighs, his face only a few inches form hers. When he starts whispering again Brienne knows she has found the man with the most seductive voice in the entire world.

"I know that we have the same shoe size, that I own the same model of trainers as you, that you blush in a most endearing way and that you have eyes that tempt me to quote good old Thomas O'Malley. But I don't know your name. Is it Duchess?"

She blushes harder and shakes her head.

"So what is it?"

He leans even closer, so close she is sure he can feel her breath on his lips when she answers.

"Brienne."


	4. Parcel Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the same list as the previous chapter:  
> mailman(/woman) and person who receives a lot of mail AU

Where is she? Normally she would have been here ten minutes ago. He checks his emails again just to make sure his order has been shipped and should arrive today. After that he opens another tab and searches for the parcel delivery company she works for. He does in fact find a telephone number and already has his mobile ready when he stops. What would he say?

"Hi, my name is Jaime. There is a young woman working for you, a bit over six feet tall, strawblond hair, rather ugly face if it weren't for her incredible beautiful blue eyes. She told me she's called Bee when I asked, but that's obviously a nickname and I have no idea whether it stands for Barbara or Brunhild or Bathsheba or something completely else. She won't tell me more even though I remind her every single time she delivers a parcel to me (and that is quite often) that it is rather unfair, she knowing both my name and my address and me not even knowing her real name.

"Today she's late and could you please tell me whether she's ill or something happend to her because I am really worried because it's always the highlight of my day when she delivers something here because then for once I have someone to talk to even if it's only for two minutes."

No. That sounds pathetic. He sighs. The only way to make it even more pathetic would be confessing that he started ordering things like shower gel and toothpicks online, things he could easily buy in the store two blocks away, just to make sure he would see Bee at least once a week.

He had made fun of her when she had first started to work on this route, because it was something to entertain him and she was an easy target, with her big, broadshouldered body that looked more male than female, her estimated three thousand freckels, her big teeth and her tendency to blush faster than anyone else Jaime had ever met.

Laughing at her was fun until the night he had found Osmund Kettleblack in Cersei's bed, got completely sloshed and hadn't managed to make the stairs up to his apartment. He had heard his neighbors passing him, but none had stopped. Bee had found him at the bottom of the stairs in a pitiful heap, reeking of alcohol and vomit, had half carried, half dragged him up to his apartment and inside after she had found his keys. He had marveld at her strength and then at the gentleness of her hands (so much gentler than Cersei's) when she stripped him to his underwear, sat him in the shower and cleaned him up. She then had put him in his bed and had left both an aspirin and her thermos filled with coffee.

The moment he woke up again he had ordered a bag of dog treats so there would be a parcel for her to deliver. (In hindsight he should have waited a little longer with ordering something. He didn't own a dog.) He had experimented three hours until the mixing ratio of coffee, milk and sugar seemed to come close to the coffee she had left him.

He had waited with the thermos and a paper bag with croissants behind his door for three hours so he wouldn't miss her. When she had arrived with his parcel they had given a rather comical performance in which he had tried to make her accept the croissants, she had tried to dodge this attempts while at the same time giving him his parcel and making him sign for it and he had repeatedly thanked her. At one point he had signed the form with "J. Croissant-Lannister" which made her scold him in a rather ineffective manner (she had been giggling the entire time). In the end they had compromised on him eating one of the croissants and she the other before she had to go again.

The doorbell rings. Jaime rushes to open the door.

"Parcel for you, sign here." He hasn't even managed to say hi befor she presses the pen in his hand and shoves the form in his face.

"So how are y..." She grabbs the pen back, checks his signature and all but throws the parcel at him. He has hardly time to notice that she avoids looking at him and sports a blush that is intense even for her before she has turned on her heels and is sprinting down the stairs in record speed.

Confused he stares after her. What has he done? They had gotten along rather well the last weeks. Today he surely hasn't had time to say anything rude. He looks down to check he is in fact fully clothed. (Once he had overslept and leaped out of bed to open the door and discovered that he in only his boxer shorts rattled her rather impressivly.) Has the company he ordered from an embarassing name? He looks at the little parcel in his hand and grins.

Now he knows why she's so flustered (and he admires that she has more courage than he in this). Next to his address there is a handwritten message: _Dear Jaime, would you like to have dinner with me? - Brienne_ followed by her phone number. Mentally going through his clothes to decide what to wear and pondering whether she likes him better with or without his beard he draws his phone from his pocket.


End file.
